Demon's Well

by E. R. Mason

  “You’ve had a bit of luck, Neil,” suggested the Captain.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes. You’re going straight into the Lancasters. You’ve somehow managed to miss the joy of wrestling with a Manchester.”

  “You lost me, sir.”

  “I guess I need to brief you on this anyway. There’s always a chance you could get stuck with one of the blasted things in a pinch. It’s like this; the Manchesters are not the platform we’ve all hoped for. They’ve had a nasty habit of getting you up off the runway then not having the power to keep you in the air. The Vulture power plants are not what you would call reliable, and if you lose one, you are going down. They were supposed to carry on a single engine, but the power specs aren’t there. The word going around is that they skimped on the metallurgy trying to save precious metals. We’ve had cylinders come through the engine sidewalls.”

  “And crews are taking them into war?”

  “It’s either that or sit and watch the regular visits from Germany, my friend. But anyway, so you are lucking out, dear boy. You’re going directly into the Lancasters and that is the place to be. They’re replacing the Manchester daily. Two more power plants and if you lose one you still get to come home. So far, they are a dream come true.”

  “Can’t wait,” replied Jax.

  “Well, the deal is, there are no ground classes that you can get into right now. They’re too far along. So I’m going to be your private tutor for the next few weeks. All that material in the backpack is the classroom books and paperwork. I am dearly hoping you can get through all that stuff yourself, and all I’ll need to do is give you the exams and sign you off. There are simulators for the wireless, nav, bomb sites and flight controls. Use them whenever they’re free. We’ll borrow Lancasters and volunteer crews as we can and get you through the flying portion. We’ll be working on circuits to begin with. Decker wants to know you can touchdown gently on the centerline every time so he can use you in a pinch. He’ll use you for navigator and flight engineer, but not for bomb aimer, so concentrate on those two. Once we get you soloed I’ll serve as your flight engineer and we’ll dry run with student navigators and bomb aimers as needed. You can hit me up anytime you have questions. Can you handle all that, Neil?”

  “What happens after I get certified for the Lancaster?”

  “Actually things look pretty good for you there, too. Lancasters are arriving every day. By the time you do get cert’ed, you’ll probably already have missions under your belt. They’ll assign a new Lancaster to you then all you’ll need is to form a crew.”

  “How’s that work?”

  “No big deal, really. When there’s a pool of candidates ready to be assigned to an airplane, they have a big party in a hanger. Sometimes there’s a whole lot of the pilot talking to people and shaking hands. You find people you feel good about and ask them to crew with you. If they’re willing, you’re set. Quite a few other pilots just pull people off the alphabetical list and don’t bother trying to hand pick them. You got time to think about that.”

  Roberts took a sip of tea and held out a hand across the table. Jax shook it and sat back.

  “Yeah, a bit overwhelming isn’t it, Neil. It’s because of the crew shortage. They know you can fly so they’re grabbing at anything they can to keep planes in the air. I don’t have to tell you how important that is. You leave a plane back on the runway and it screws up the whole group besides leaving the ordnance behind. That’s why they’re pushing you.”

  “I understand, Captain,” replied Jax.

  “From now, off duty, call me Patrick. My call sign is Chase.”

  Jax found his way to his new quarters, a large barracks with fewer bunks than he was accustomed to. A stove in the center of the room for heat, a few tables and chairs at one end. A giant blackboard along with posters on the walls. No one was home. He found an empty foot locker and took a chance that it was an available spot and began perusing through the stack of reading material. Most of it was stamped classified.

  As Jax studied, other crew personnel began to flow into the barracks. After an awkward moment, each took a turn introducing himself, shook his hand, and welcomed him. To Jax’s relief, the atmosphere was friendly and helpful.

  Jax resigned himself to hitting the books every free minute he had. On day three, he looked up from his studies in the mess hall to find Captain Roberts smiling down at him.

  “There’s a Lancaster free and waiting for us, Neil. You ready?”

  Jax stood and hurriedly closed his books.

  “Go suit up. B.J. and me will pick you up outside the crew locker room. I’ll put you in the jump seat until we’re up and over the practice area. Then I’ll turn it over to you for some ground reference work.”

  “Thanks, Captain. I’ll be quick.”

  In the crew locker room, Jax fumbled nervously with his flight gear. It was customary to put street clothes on under the flight suit, but Jax did not want to take the time. He squeezed into the suit still wearing his uniform and cursed himself for not having checked the fit sooner. Fortunately the fit was perfect. Next the microphone cables became tangled up and he had to pause to straighten them. As he set up his parachute harness and Mae West, he suddenly wondered if the others would be wearing their Mae Wests. The Captain said they would be flying over the practice area, not over water. Was it standard to always wear them, or would he look like an amateur, the only crew member wearing a flotation vest. Jax cursed and put in on anyway.

  He stepped out of the building to find the Captain and another crew member waiting in a jeep. Hurriedly, he climbed in and they sped across the base to one of the larger hangers where a ground crew was still preparing a new Lancaster. Propellers were being rotated by hand to pump oil through the engine. Boots were being removed from intakes.

  The aircraft suddenly seemed larger than life. The Captain pulled up to the aft side loading door. The door was open with the ladder attached. The Captain waved to ground crew members, threw his gear in, and turned to Jax.

  “You’re Jacks on the radio, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain pointed to the man accompanying him. “Well, Jacks, this is BJ. BJ say hello to Jacks. Be nice.”

  BJ was a bit short. His thinning black hair was combed straight back. His tanned face was well weathered, with large black eyebrows, and more lines than most. He smiled and held out a hand. “So you’re the prodigy then, boy? Is that right?”

  Jax stuttered and stammered. “Me? Heck no. I’m that guy who doesn’t know anything?”

  BJ gave a guttural laugh. “You gonna know more than you want to before long, fly boy.”

  Captain Roberts cut in. “Jacks, how’s the self-taught ground school going. You know the aircraft ground checks?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, BJ and I will trust you to do them. Then climb in up to the jump seat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jax hurried around the aircraft to the preflight checkpoints. Along the way he felt a tightening in his chest as he again realized the size of the Lancaster’s airframe. Four large propellers complemented the front end where the bomb aimer/front gunner would occupy the nose. The front tires were as tall as he was. This was actually a single pilot airplane. How could one man control such a large, heavy airframe?

  Climbing in the hatch, the aircraft interior was cramped. Jax had to maneuver himself forward past BJ, who gave a half smile and taunting four-fingered wave, then through the huge wing spar area and up to the cockpit where Captain Roberts waited. Jax had to bump around to get in place. Roberts helped unfold the jump seat. Finally seated, Jax found himself in the cockpit bubble, looking out over the huge aircraft. Behind him, the mid upper gunner turret was empty, guns removed from their cradles. Forward, it was the same with the front gunner bubble in the nose.

  Roberts signaled to the ground crew and waited for them to back away. “BJ’s expired right now, just like me. That’s why he’s willing to go along and wor
k the radios for us. We don’t need a navigator, but if we did he’d be good at that, too.”

  “Expired, sir? You said expired?”

  “Twenty-one missions completed. Grounded for six months before we can volunteer again,” answered the Captain.

  Jax wanted to say, “Wow,” but he bit his lip.

  “Pull the checklists, Jacks. Let’s turn these props.”

  Jax found the boot with the checklists and began the callouts. “Engine cocks are off. Fuel indicators are at three quarters. Throttles?”

  “Throttles open, Jacks.”

  “Propeller controls?”

  “Propeller controls full up.”

  “Cut out switches?”

  “To idle cut-off.”

  “Supercharger?”

  “M.”

  “Air Intake Heat control?”

  “Is cold.”

  “Radiator shutters?”

  “Overrides at auto.”

  “Captain, which engine first?”

  “It’s Chase on the intercom, Jacks. We usually start with the number 2 engine. The battery lines are the shortest. Less chance of draining the batteries.”

  Jacks reached behind him to the engineering panel and set the appropriate switches. “Tank selector to number 2 tank, master switch for engine 2 on. All other masters off. Booster pump for the number 2 on.”

  “Very good, Jacks. Starting number 2.”

  Jax stared in awe as the biggest propeller he had ever seen began to crank as its engine coughed. The engine caught on the first turn and the whirring blades spun to life shaking the big plane as it came up to speed. Jax sat in excited awe as each of the remaining three engines roared to life. The aircraft vibrated in gentle waves as they slowly warmed. For Jax this was the most exhilarating ride he had ever taken besides that first solo. The power of those engines seemed overwhelming.

  “BJ, you hear that sound?” asked Chase over the intercom.

  “Sounds like four good ones to me, mon Capitan,” replied BJ.

  “Well then please plead our case, sir.”

  BJ clicked on his transmitter. “Woolfox Control, your KB726 virgin wishes to taxi.”

  “726, you are cleared to taxi to 12 and hold. You will be number 2.”

  “726 is cleared to taxi and hold at runway 12,” answered BJ.

  Chase looked over at Jax. “Always remember to signal the Erks to pull the wheel chocks. If you don’t, they won’t remove them and they’ll let you rev the engines trying to move the airplane and then they’ll laugh like hell at you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Jax had no controls of his own. He could only sit and watch in awe as Chase coaxed the big airplane around, skillfully powering it ahead to the taxiway.

  At the runway, Chase pulled up short and jockeyed the plane around slightly to steer the prop wash away from the taxiway. He ran the engines up and together he and Jax checked each one followed by takeoff settings for various control surfaces and intakes. A spitfire that had been ahead of them was now on the runway and rolling.

  Woolfox Control came over the radio. “726 taxi into position and hold.”

  “Taxi into position and hold,” replied BJ.

  By the time they had lumbered into position, takeoff clearance was issued and Chase wasted no time winding all four engines up to full power. The aircraft slowly pushed forward but gained speed quickly. Almost immediately Jax felt Chase bring the backend up off the runway. Speeding past oil stains, in a bubble atop a giant machine, Jax felt like he was riding a huge metal bird. The vision was so stunning he momentarily forgot he was supposed to be calling out airspeeds. Quickly he found the indicator and yelled out too loudly, “Airspeed 60!”

  Chase smiled.

  “Eighty.”

  As the end of the runway approached Jax suddenly lost all fear. “Ninety-five.”

  Chase answered. “We’re empty Jax. That’ll do.”

  With that, Chase eased back on the yoke and plane lurched off the runway. There was that ordained feeling of joy within Jax, the green world falling away, the empty sky welcoming escape.

  As they worked the post takeoff procedure, Chase glanced at Jax and smiled again. “Do you know what the buncher is, Jacks?”

  “Yes, sir. The homing signal that tells all aircraft where to go to group.”

  Chase smiled once again. “BJ, want to give us a heading to the practice buncher?”

  “What? You don’t know it by heart yet? Turn right heading 245 degrees.”

  Chase tipped the airplanes wings and set the heading. “I think we can switch out now, Jacks. Are you ready?”

  “Couldn’t be more ready, sir.”

  Together the men worked to exchange seats. When it was done, Jax had to marvel at the four powerful engines now at his fingertips. It was a new kind of freedom.

  “You get within range of the buncher and everybody’s got to stay sharp, Jacks. Lots of other aircraft arriving to group. Group leader is circling the buncher. You never want to go inside the circle to get hooked up. That saves airplanes crossing in front of each other without realizing it. You spot the group, catch up and match their speed, then ease into position from outside or above the circle. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Any questions yet?”

  “Since we’re at cruise for a few moments, I do have a side question about the Elsan, sir.”

  Immediately there was a cry of despair over the intercom from BJ. “You bastard, then!” he cried. “Are you daft or something!”

  Startled, Jax looked to Chase for an explanation. Chase shifted in the jump seat, smiled, and nodded. He pulled the mike away from his mouth and yelled over the engine noise. “Never say that word, ever. That thing is so despised by all crews that any mention of it puts ugly images in their heads. Believe me, you’ll understand all too soon. You want to take care of business before you fly and bring something along to use in emergencies. There’s a relief tube down by the bomb bay doors, but watch it. The spray goes right past the rear gunner’s canopy and if you don’t warn him it’s coming so he can rotate away, it will cover his front window with yellow ice and believe me you will hear about that.”

  “Wow!” replied Jax.

  The intercom became silent.

  At the practice area, Jax worked the Lancaster. After an enjoyable array of circles and figure eights in the sky, he switched seats back with Chase and they headed home.

  “Tomorrow’s practice will start with go-arounds, Jacks. We should have a set of dual control adapters in by then.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell me, can this Lancaster pull out of a landing attempt and climb with her wheels and flaps still down?”

  “Yes, sir, 140 mph climb, raise the undercarriage, then flaps up gradually.”

  “You’re doing well, Jacks. You better be good tomorrow though. When a rookie starts working circuits small crowds tend to collect around the hangers. The better you do, the faster they clear out.”

  Two weeks later Jax was putting the Lancaster on the runway with the touch of a master. People were pausing to watch out of admiration rather than expecting a bounce off. Chase signed him off to solo but because Jax had no crew he still needed Chase and BJ to fly.

  On week three that changed.

  Chapter 19

  The jump seat was slightly bent on the right side and felt as unfamiliar as everything else about the aircraft. Jax’s position alongside a pilot he had only met a few minutes earlier left him feeling out of place and unprepared. He had been taken from a sound sleep in the middle of the night, rushed through his suit up, and then given a brisk jeep ride along a line of Lancasters preparing for takeoff, their engines droning deeply in the night air. He was told only that a flight engineer’s sudden appendicitis was the reason. The mission was the Atlas Werke and Korff Refinery at Bremen.

  Things were happening too quickly to get a handle. He had no idea of what to expect. Was this to be real war? He was sitting atop a Lancaster with al
l four engines turning, calling out checklist items to Captain James Wellington, call sign Buck. The aircraft was the Easy Money. The stars were shining brightly overhead. The long line of airplanes ahead and behind were waiting for stragglers still having problems. There was continuous chatter on the radio. For the first time since soloing, Jax was afraid.

  When the checklists were complete, Captain Wellington gave a nod. Jax looked back at the regular flight engineer position and found Butch, the mid upper gunner occupying the space. He waved and nodded. Beyond him, the rear and front gunners Buzz and Sharpy were hanging out in the standing area. Jax looked to the Captain. Captain Wellington understood and shouted over the engine noise. “It’s the best place for them, Jacks. Hang right in here with me, but keep an eye on the number 4 oil pressure. It’s been fluctuating but they can’t find anything wrong.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jax looked around worriedly from his vantage point beneath the canopy. Thirty-six aircraft were being moved into the proper order to reach the end of the runway. Jax’s mind began to believe the reality of where he was and what he was doing. The first startling difference was when he had climbed aboard the airplane and found the bomb bay full of bombs. There had been no time to consider that until now. And, although the ship was fully manned, no one was speaking. Jax had heard that on milk run missions there was always a lot of joking and commentary on the intercom. There was nothing but a heavy silence now. That could only mean one thing.

  Over the intercom the first airplane was cleared for takeoff. Jax suddenly realized no call signs were being used on the radio. The line began to move. In the distance, he could see the aircraft’s lights as it jockeyed into position. There was no waiting. The craft powered forward, taking an excruciatingly long run to pick up speed. As it passed, it almost seemed as if there would not be enough runway, but well before the end, the ship nosed up, seemed to linger in the air, then ever so gradually gained altitude.